Tears Of A Lion
by eiry.d
Summary: Squall has broken up with Rinoa, and the concequences are far greater than anybody could have ever imagined. Rated T for future bad language and violence - probably... not for Squinoa fans, hehe. R&R -
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer** – I do not, and have never owned any aspects of the video game **Final Fantasy VIII** – this story is written for fun, and for the pleasure of anyone reading it, and I do not, nor will I make profit from it

Tears Of A Lion – By Eiry D

Chapter 1 – Reflections 

"Listen, Rinoa… it… it isn't working. I can't do this any more, I don't love you and I never have. Everyone forced me into doing this and I…" Not knowing what to say, he simply nodded. Staring into her eyes, blue to brown.

If it had been anyone else that she'd been dating, she would have thought it was a joke. She didn't get dumped, she was the Perfect Princess. She got what she wanted, and people were perfectly willing to give it to her. She had laughed, shocked. But the General's daughter had been shot down from her thoroughbred high-horse, and had not landed on her feet.

They'd talk, of course. The commander of Balamb Garden and The Good Sorceress. They'd been written about, talked about; their whole lives documented and interpreted by every author worth their salt. After all, they were the perfect couple, and they had their own fairy tale. The lowly knight and the beautiful princess, battling to kill their wicked witch, and find each other with the power of true love.

It sickened her.

The reporters and the biographers had conveniently left out the side stories, the smaller details of their dramatic lives. Where were the tales of hate, lies, and deceit? All hidden from the public eye. But this, this was one thing that would not go unnoticed. This would ruin them, or at least her. Squall, as always, wouldn't care.

So here she was, in her dorm, sitting on her white linen sheets, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Streaks of mascara ran down her face, marking her tears. Her red, puffy eyes stared out at her. Brown to brown. For once she'd been happy in her life, satisfied. But now her first feelings of love were crushed.

She was angry, and angry tears sprang afresh from her eyes.

"How could you do this to me?" She screeched to her reflection. In reply, all it did was claw at the bed sheets. The figure in the glass mocking her movements. The pressure in her head built up, the sounds in the room rattled about her ears, the light from the bright white walls seared in her eyes.

"WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

The image before her shattered into a million pieces, tinkling glass sounded everywhere as it scattered across the floor. She stared once more at herself through the broken fragments of the mirror. Her powers were getting stronger now, and more dangerous.

Her breathing began to slow again, and shaking; she stood. Her designer boots crunched over the broken glass, she tore at the chain around her neck with her bloody, and broken nails. Her mother's engagement ring slipped itself around her ring finger, and Squall's simple lion was held high so she could see every detail. It was blood-tarnished. Ruined.

She began to laugh.

"Something to remember me by, Squall." She cackled. The sound was metallic, cruel, and so cold. It was as if it weren't her own, though it was horribly familiar.

She turned now toward the frosted glass door that led out into the corridor, she looked at the people-shaped-blurs behind the glass pane. They were there. They'd laugh at her. Seething with anger, she felt the pressure build up again, and another explosion. The last thing that she would feel in a long time was the glass biting into her cheek. Long, black veins of blood ran over her pure white face.

She would be powerful, she would be great, no longer the pure, innocent child.

"Ah Miss Trepe! How may I help you?" Quistis smiled at the girl at the desk, was it Helen? She hoped so.

"Hi Helen." She smiled back, much to the relief of the instructor.

"Is the Commander available?"

"Judging from his mood…? Unlikely."

"Ah."

The women both laughed, Squall had regular angsty sessions where he would retreat to his room, cancel all appointments, and usually destroy the majority of his office furniture.

"I'll just go in, take the brunt of it."

"Okay Instructor, good luck but um… I warned you, okay?"

Quistis forced a laugh, and turned to the polished oak doors, pushing them aside she stepped in. She just stared for a little while, this was far worse than anything she'd seen Squall do before. Furniture was smashed and wrecked, buried beneath paperwork strewn across the floor, having been ripped from drawers and trays. Her eyes flickered across the room, scanning the decimation that this now calm man had caused. Their eyes met. Blue, met blue.

"Bad day?"

"Yeah."

She smiled at the words, and he smiled back. A year ago, it would have been "Whatever" and a scowl. Funny how things change.

She looked again at the devastation. She knew just how much Squall hated his office, all neat and perfect and organised. What's worse is that it was expected of him to have an office like this, so they gave it to him despite protests. Usually he'd take out his anger on pretty much everything, especially the Garden issue furniture. But the one thing that he'd really focused on this time was a pretty, compact, real-leather designer chair. Expensive, that was for sure, and a gift from the ever-perfect Rinoa. It had reminded Quistis of her, so perfect and expensive and pretty. But now… now it was charred and burnt and broken. He hated it.

"So tell me then." She said to break the silence.

Squall sat in the remains of his chair, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"I broke up with her."

"You did what?" The surprise in her voice was genuine; he had broken up with her? Impossible.

"I. Broke. Up. With. Her. Could I make it simpler? Diagrams, perhaps." He joked, waving a hand at a white-board. Cut to shrebbons. The blonde frowned for a second.

"That… might explain things a little." She said.

"Explain what?"

She sighed.

"The reason I'm here. At three o'clock this afternoon a large build up of mana energy was detected near the dorms. The faculty were sent down, because we just assumed that it was a student practicing magic. No traces of magic were found, however. Nobody had been admitted to the infirmary with magic-related wounds. In fact, staff present at the dorms witnessed nothing."

She paused, he didn't say, or do anything. So she just carried on.

"Still though… slight traces of mana were still present, and then localised to the girls dormitories. By three-thirty another build-up of energy was detected. It had gotten so large that we were considering evacuating Garden. Still, everything at the scene was normal. About five minutes after the last communication between the office and the present faculty member, there was an explosion from Rinoa's dorm. The glass in her door was just… shattered, and she was blown clean out of it. We don't know yet, but we expect it was her own doing."

He frowned, Quistis was wasting his time. Why should he be concerned with her? Why was he still expected to look after her?

"Then she should be disciplined appropriately. There is to be no magic practiced except in the authorised zones, it's simple procedure, Quis."

"Squall, she was taken straight to the infirmary. She's in a deep, mana-induced coma."

Those last words spoken by the instructor caused the slightest flicker in Squall's eyes. He took his hand from his chin, and raked it through his hair.

"Well then, a matter for the medical staff and then the disciplinary staff."

Quistis stared at him in disbelief. Squall could be cold, and certainly nonchalant. But he had always cared for others' well being, at least… she thought so.

"Squall?" How could he be such an asshole? Yesterday he and Rinoa had been inseparable. Rinoa had even been hinting at marriage in her own way.

"Quis, I really couldn't care less." He was irritated; he didn't need to be bothered with something so… trivial. In his eyes, Rinoa was now no more than cargo. She was no SeeD, only a sorceress who should in fact be every member of Garden's sworn enemy. As soon as they landed, in fact he wanted her out of Garden, and out of his life.

"Well then _Sir_. As Commander, _you_ should notify her next of kin. That's General Carraway."

She stood upright, not wanting to look her friend in the eyes. How could he be so uncaring? All she was waiting for a simple:

"Dismissed."

Which she took, spun on her heel and strode hastily out of the office. Before the door closed, she turned, frowned at him and asked"

"Who are you?"

And then she left. The Commander sat, swamped in his battered chair, and whispered softly.

"I wish I knew, Quistis."

A/N I know, I'm queen of the re-writes. But I've so many stories, so many ideas that I love and that… well when I was younger I just felt that I did them no justice. So review please 

On a side note, I apologise profusely for the formatting if it hasn't worked; it seems my computer dislikes and doesn't want me to upload with lovely underlines, alignment and the like. Sigh


	2. Cast

**Disclaimer** – I do not, and have never owned any aspects of the video game **Final Fantasy VIII** – this story is written for fun, and for the pleasure of anyone reading it, and I do not, nor will I make profit from it

Tears Of A Lion – By Eiry D

Chapter 2 - Cast 

Squall had been summoned to the infirmary by a very angry General Carraway demanding to know what had happened to his daughter.

"You said you'd look after her, you bastard. You'd think she'd have been safe here, of all places. I should have just taken her home…" Carraway put his hand on his hip, and reached up to mop the beads of sweat from his lined forehead. Squall just stood there, looking over Rinoa's comatose body in vague disgust.

To think, he'd been willing to risk his life for her in such a similar situation. He didn't know why he bothered. He grew bored of the General's exasperated stare, so gave the routine answer.

"We're looking into it. The former sorceress Edea, whom Rinoa inherited her powers from, has been sent for, to try to gain some insight into the matter. There's always the possibility that she's been possessed once more, in which case Esthar will be contacted, and Sorceress Rinoa will have to be contained."

"Contained? You talk about her if she were an animal!"

Squall simply stared.

"There is no way that Esthar will have my daughter, Leonhart. No way in hell."

Squall was getting impatient, now. The idiocy of the man was intolerable, to let his feelings get in the way of something so important as international safety.

"Sir." He said flatly. "Do you have any idea what another Sorceress War could do to the planet?"

"That… that won't happen, not to my daughter. She's harmless…"

"Rinoa was part of the team that defeated Ultimacea, her powers were very weak then, and still we killed her. It's been years since then, she's managed to do this to herself." He motioned to the bed. "Her powers are a lot more advanced, and those… as well as the powers of another sorceress. It could be apocalyptic."

Carraway paced up and down the tiny ward, thinking to himself. Finally he rested with his hands on the windowsill, looking out to the ocean with his back to Squall.

"How… how could you be willing to give up on her so easily? You used to care about her."

"I cared, once. But my loyalty has to lie with the majority. Now, I am asking you to consider the lives of thousands of millions of people. One life is a small sacrifice."

He turned, to look Squall in the eye. How could he? How could he be so uncaring?

"I'd give my life for her, you know that no matter what we've been through in the past. She's my daughter, and I know that you would have felt the same once."

"It's out of my hands, General."

"You're cold, Leonhart."

Squall left the ice-blue room, leaving Carraway to himself. Why was everyone trying to make this his problem? Why couldn't they just leave him alone, like he wanted?

Rinoa awoke to a dream. The scent of smoky incense filled the air, heavy and pensive as it was. Everything around her was a bloody, ruby red. Swathes of crimson fabric hung over ornate gold features. Her eyes were hazy and stinging, but she could just about make out a figure sitting in an ornate throne opposite her.

It was a woman, also cloaked in red. Wisps of white-blonde hair peeked out from under her hood. But there wasn't much more that she could make out.

She could feel the blood dried on her face from her fall earlier. Perhaps she was half-awake after all, and only daydreaming from painkillers in the infirmary. No matter, she'd wake up soon… right? Her wrists stung, too. Something was biting into them, and her ankles, and neck were sore. Maybe… she was restrained, she'd been pretty mad before, if she was in the infirmary then they might think she was dangerous. Maybe…

At present, though, she was more preoccupied with the reality of this dream.

After a little while, her vision cleared. Everything around her was sharp once more. She looked again at the lady in the throne, she was bound, too. Then she realised that it was her mirror image. This had to be a dream… but it felt so real. From what she could make out, the mouth was her own. The blood was real; it had run down her face. But she couldn't see the rest.

She tried first to move her fingers, but to no avail. She couldn't do anything, her body refused to respond.

"Don't even bother, princess."

She stopped breathing out of shock, who was it that spoke? She could see no one. This was a dream, it had to be a dream… who was it that kept her here? The voice sounded… so familiar.

"Don't you recognise me?" It toyed, laughing. A high, metallic, girlish laugh. Who was it? "Oh poor, frightened princess. You don't know who I am, do you?"

Of course, she couldn't respond. Whoever this was, she didn't think that it was funny.

"I'm your past, your present, your future, princess."

Where was she? She looked around as far as she could, as far as she dared. The ceiling was high, and the room was altogether forbidding. There were no windows, so she had no clue whereabouts she was. The only light in the room was from candelabra and the high chandeliers in the room.

"Don't you recognise it? It's where the most important events in your life have happened, will happen. History always repeats itself, doll."

Rinoa watched as her fingers drummed themselves against the arm of the throne that she was bound to. Her head lifted up a little, so she could get a better view of her surroundings. God, she was being controlled, possessed.

The voice laughed at the pathetic little girl. Pleading silently against the inevitable. For once, she wouldn't get her own way. She was going to see, and she would get no sympathy for it. Only a memory within the voice stirred slightly.

"You want me to let you go, princess?"

Her mouth grinned as it heard Rinoa's silent plea. Her head flicked back and so the hood fell. As she let the body go, its eyes began to scream in terror, the mouth soon followed suit, the body trembled at the mere sight of itself.

Cascades of bloodied, tarnished silver fell around her. After an age the girl's voice started to die out, it grew thin and tore itself into a harsh, grated screech. Again, she passed out.

**A/N** Okay… doesn't like me – not only was there formatting errors… but it just plain missed out some of the text altogether.

I'll… try to fix. Review, please?


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